#he in his own fucked up way he provided a safe space for these other marginalised communities

[satellitesunset]

perpetually thinking about suguru geto.

[bunnyreaper]

john price is nothing without his girl.

(18+/mdni, f!reader, daddy kink (but no ageplay), dom/sub, legal age gap)

john never realised just what being a daddy could mean until he met you. he'd hesitated so much about starting a relationship with someone so much younger, but your sparkling doe eyes, darling personality, and schoolgirl-like crush on him were too much to resist.

you were mature beyond your years, having adapted to a world that wasn't so kind, and you could easily hold your own in any part of life--but you didn't really want to, and you were sick of pretending. john didn't want you to, john could provide the solace you needed--a space for both of you to be your true selves.

he's always been a caring, kind, and protective lover, but you send all his instincts into overdrive--especially since you never resist them. despite everything you are, you blush when he opens doors for you, carries something heavy for you, always says 'ladies first'. every time he treats you like you're something delicate, you let yourself be cradled in his safe hands, and that feeling of being responsible for you in every way is just so fucking addictive to him. once he's had a taste of being your guiding light, he just can't let it go.

he's your big, strong protector too, always there to watch over you--an ever present hand on the back of your neck as you walk around town, or his sudden appearance if someone is making you uncomfortable. god fucking forbid anyone tries to come to close to you.

he easily picks you up and cradles you whenever you crave his cuddles, or he's carrying you to the bedroom to have his way with you. you've never felt as safe as you do in his arms, and he encourages your addiction to his touch--whether it's just his soothing strokes through your hair or the feeling of his cock making its home inside you.

everything he does is in service of you, just as everything you do honours him. he treasures the gift of your submission, and knows the way he earns such a privilege is by fulfilling your every need, as you always do the same for him. you compliment each other so naturally, he leads, you follow. he commands and you obey, because you know in your soul he only ever has your best interests at heart.

but at his core, he would do anything for you. this man is not afraid to fall to his knees to help you put on your shoes, would shield you from the rain if it meant keeping you dry, get his knuckles bloody and bruised if it meant keeping yours so delicate and clean.

it's strange how he can feel such an affinity to a name that isn't really his, and yet when daddy leaves your lips, it calls out to him like anything else. when he calls you his, you've never felt more like you belong.

[joshfutturman]

"happy anniversary" 18+

oneshot - he's anxious to celebrate your one-year anniversary, but it turns out that mike schmidt is just full of surprises. (3.4k words) pairing - mike schmidt (five nights at freddys movie) + gn!reader tags - abby is at a sleepover, established relationship, sort of sappy sometimes, pure filth tho, mike gives you lots of hickies, mike goes down on you while you're on his dining room table, alcohol mention, he maybe pours some wine on you and licks it off :3c oops, fucking against a wall, creampie, mutual orgasm, dirty talk.

a/n - i wrote this to celebrate the ten year anniversary of five night's at freddys! celebrate with me with some good old fashioned smut :3

.・。.・゜✭・. .・。.・゜✭・. .・。.・゜✭・.

one whole year with mike schmidt, and honestly? you couldn't be happier. you and abby had grown close, mike was smiling more, eating better, sleeping better - you make each other better people. he knows he can lean on you when days get dark, you provide a safe space for him to heal after struggling for so long in his own head.

however, he'd insisted on not celebrating your one-year anniversary. something about him being 'cursed'. this was a pattern with mike, being afraid to celebrate anything good in his life, as though it would be ripped from him in an instant. you tried to protest but knew it was futile. he'd made up his mind, and you knew how hard it was to get inside that stubborn head of his.

.・。.・゜✭・. .・。.・゜✭・. .・。.・゜✭・.

you pretended it didn't bother you that a day spent littering mike with kisses and affection was slipping through your fingers. you could do that any day, right? but what made it special was that it was going to be your day. you pretended not to be disappointed.

pulling up outside his place, you fidget nervously before exiting your car. would he even remember that it's your anniversary? maybe he'd pushed it so far to the back of his mind that it had gotten lost there. that thought hurt. swallowing your dispirited thoughts, you make your way towards the door and pull out your key, adorned with a cute little freddy fazbear keychain abby had given you despite mike's disapproval.

but as you open the door, you're greeted with. . . darkness? the usual lull of mike's living room lights has been replaced with a soft orange illumination instead. there's a small candle on the side table by the door, and then another on the coffee table. . . and another on the tv stand. you step inside and close the door gently, a small smile tugging at the corners of your lips. what was this?

"hey," his voice pulls you from your confused thoughts, your eyes darting towards the sound of mike's low voice. it's then you see him, standing nervously beside the dining table. even more candles are carefully placed across the table, illuminating the room in a soft warm glow. there's a bottle of wine, two plates with what looks to be a home-cooked meal and. . . was that wilting red roses?

mike clears his throat, grabbing the flowers to busy his hands, but also to extend them to you, a gift. or, they were supposed to be. his eyes glance down at them, the deep scarlet petals fading. he falters at the sight of them, mouth opening and then closing again. "bought 'em a few days ago to be prepared and i guess i, uh. . . didn't really think about the fact that they'd die."

you take a few steps towards him as he continues. this wasn't a spur-of-the-moment thing, he'd thought about this.

"i just. . . it's not that i didn't wanna celebrate our anniversary," he mumbles, looking anywhere but you, "i was. . . scared? i dunno. listen, i just-"

you shut him up promptly with a kiss, gripping the collar of his hoodie and pulling him against you. his hand instantly goes to your waist, squeezing the soft flesh there as he loses himself in your lips, slowly lowering the flowers in his hand as the thought of them possibly disappointing you leaves his mind.

"i love you," you whisper against his lips, snaking your hands up to cup his cheeks, "i love you." you speak it with great conviction.

between your words, he breathes softly against your lips before diving back in with renewed vigour, tossing the roses aside on the floor and placing both hands on the small of your back. his large hands grip you, fingers splayed across the fabric of your shirt as his tongue slips inside your mouth.

gasping, you melt as he takes you so confidently, a kiss that claims you as his, a kiss that eliminates the need for more words. the way he's gripping you. . . god, you're not sure he's ever held you like this, like he needs you right now or he'll die. tonight, he wants to spoil you.

his hand brushes down along your side to grasp a handful of your thigh, yanking it up and around his hip. you yelp a little and keep your leg firmly wrapped around him, allowing your hips to press closer to his, feeling that familiar bulge tease you. just picturing his length had you shuddering in his arms.

"fuck, mike. . ." you whisper as you pull back for breath, eyes fluttering open.

but he can't wait, he can't part with you for even a second. his lips are immediately on your neck, kissing up along the column of your throat, leaving small red marks that will only grow worse with time. tilting your head back, you expose more of yourself to him gladly. he could have all of you and ask for more, and you'd happily give it to him.

"you always taste so fuckin' sweet. . ." he purrs against your skin, tongue flicking out to soothe those hickies he's so kindly left behind. you can feel the hint of a smirk on his lips against your neck and it makes your knees weak, heat surging in your groin.

oh how his smirks and smiles were so rare, you cherish every single one, especially when they were for you, because of you.

in one swift movement, he lifts you into his arms and turns towards the table, laying you down against the glass. you look up at him in surprise, panting softly, reeling from his touches and the way his lips were so greedily dancing against your skin just moments before.

mike smooths his hands down along your thighs, admiring your soft skin below him, "think i want a taste of somethin' else, though. . ." his hands slide back up to the button of your jeans, popping it open and unzipping quickly.

your chest rises and falls rapidly, heart pounding, looking up at him as he undresses you. you love the way that lust clouds his eyes, those hazel hues growing darker in the dim light, eyes focused on you and only you. "can i?" he whispers, slowly inching your jeans downwards. of course, you nod.

slowly, he rolls the jeans down your hips and along your legs, taking a moment to kiss up along the skin that is exposed to him. his lips find your knee, then your soft calf, eyes closed as he savours every moment with you. tossing your jeans aside, his eyes fixate on the growing need between your legs, instinctively licking his lips. he'd cooked you a meal, sure, but here you were, bringing a meal home for him.

and fuck, your breathing hitches as you watch his hungry stare, suddenly feeling hotter under his gaze. you can't take much more - with shaking hands, you begin to remove your underwear, pulling them down to your ankles, not bothering to remove them completely. mikes calloused hands rest against your thighs, spreading you open a little wider for him as he kneels.

craning your neck, you keep your eyes on him all the while, desperate not to lose sight of him. you want. . . no, you need to watch him as he uses that tongue of his.

jerking you forward just a tad, your hips are drawn to the edge of the table with one pull. mike wraps his arms around your thighs leaning in to nuzzle against your core. his nose nudges you and you whine, feeling sparks throughout your body. finally, some friction.

"thought about this all day. . ." he grumbles, licking a stripe along you sloppily causing you to moan, "i miss you when you're gone." mike admits, and you're not sure what's hotter, his vulnerable words or the way he's looking up at you with those puppy dog eyes from between your thighs.

"missed you too baby, always do," your voice is shaky, body trembling in anticipation and from sheer need. you thread your fingers through mike's hair, your other hand propping you up on the table so you can watch him more easily.

he groans, eyes closing over as he dives back in, licking and sucking your sensitive skin. you love how fucking messy he gets like this, dribbling down his chin, wondering where you end and he begins. you want to watch him, but you reluctantly let your head fall back, overcome with pleasure, eyes closing as you huff into the air, back flush against the table beneath you.

"so good," you whine, moaning at each movement of his tongue. your free hand reaches out to grab something, anything to stabilise you, to ground you in the moment - but in your clumsiness, you almost send the bottle of wine flying from the table.

cursing, you catch it and mike pulls back, looking up to see the commotion. a grin finds its home on his lips as he sees the wine, "thirsty?" he asks.

laughing nervously, you settle the bottle back down in its place, but not before mike places a hand over yours, taking the bottle. swallowing hard, your eyes widen, what was he up to? he had that mischievous look in his eye, normally reserved for when he was feeling especially confident in the bedroom or when he was repressing a dirty joke.

he takes the bottle, unscrewing it as he stands, eyes locked on yours in a heated gaze. you sit there, legs spread, wet with his saliva, suppressing a shudder as the air of the room brushes against the damp spots on your skin.

bringing the bottle to his lips, his eyes still stay firmly on yours with an intensity that causes you to shiver, mouth suddenly feeling dry as you watch the wine spill into his mouth. your eyes fix on his throat, watching as his adams apple bobs with each swallow.

after a gulp, he wipes his mouth with the back of his sleeve - good thing its a black hoodie - and speaks up, "want some?"

how can you say no? you're laying there, spread open for him, by him. you nod, maybe a little more eagerly than you'd like. but mike knew how much you loved him, how much you craved his touch. you never need to be embarrassed around him.

"alright baby, i'll give you a taste, just wait. . ." he smiles and brings the bottle down, hovering it above your core. your eyes widen, what the fuck was he-

it trickles down, the red wine coating your heat. instinctively, you gasp sharply at the wet, cool sensation, feeling it run down to your ass and along your thighs. with wide eyes, you look up at him in disbelief.

"babe, what are you-"

"shhhh. . . let me spoil you for once," he places the wine back down on the table, kneeling again as he inches closer. then, his tongue begins slowly lapping at the red liquid. he moans softly at the taste, eyes closing as he takes in the combined flavour of both you and the alcohol. he would do this all day if you'd let him, and you could tell how much he loved using his mouth on you.

the sight of him lapping hungrily at you, tongue sliding across your inner thighs, cleaning up the mess he made - it's almost too much. you're gasping and panting and arching your back against the table. "holy fuck mike," you whisper, it's all you could think to say in the moment, the words coming out automatically. it was all so dirty, head reeling at how confident mike was being today, but he was determined to make you feel good, to make up for his insecurities and anxieties of celebrating his anniversary with you.

he just wants to make you feel how much he loves you, how much he worships you.

pulling back, earning a disappointed whine from you, he trails up your body until his reddened lips are on yours, tongue immediately seeking entrance. you accept, wrapping your arms around him as he kisses you. the intoxicating taste of yourself and the distinct notes of red wine fill your senses as mike deepens the kiss, giving you the taste you asked for.

mike feels you smile against his lips, causing him to smile in turn. his cock twitches in need, he's almost painfully hard, each throb reminding him just how desperately he wants to be buried inside of you.

lifting you from the table, he turns and pins you against the wall, ensuring your legs are wrapped firmly around his. "hold on," he instructs before kissing you once more, a lazy kiss as he pushes his joggers and underwear down.

already you feel his hardened length hit your thighs and you whine. fuck, you want it so bad. you bite your tongue to stop yourself from begging him to fuck you nice and hard.

"can i fuck you like this?" he asks in a hurried whisper, panting softly as his hands return to hold you up by your thighs, pushing you a little harder against the wall. even in the heat of the moment, he wants to make sure you're comfortable.

your head spins at the question, and you nod quickly, "please, fuck me."

bringing a hand down to position himself at your entrance, you gasp as you feel his slick, leaking tip against you. he does the same, hissing softly at the contact. once he feels himself easing him, he moves his hand back to your plush thighs, digits digging into the skin.

mind blank, head feeling empty, all that you can think about is how perfectly he's pushing into you, how perfectly he's stretching you out right now. your head rests back against the wall, eyes closed as you adjust to his girth. his saliva and remnants of the wine drip down against him and onto the floor, but he doesn't fucking care.

his eyes watch your expression shift with great interest, watching at every subtle shift, the way your eyebrows twitch, your mouth falls open as his cock slides deeper. . . god he fucking loves you.

"that good baby?" he asks, voice husky as he attempts to keep his composure.

you simply nod, biting your lip as he slides in all the way, his hips meeting your thighs with a soft smack. you both sigh in satisfaction, you're full of him, but it's not enough, he needs to move.

and shit, it's like he reads your mind, because he does. slowly, he begins pistoning his hips up into yours. gradually at first, keeping a slow and steady pace as he buries his face into the crook of your neck. soft, needy moans slip from your lips as he fucks you, back pressed tightly against the wall.

his name sings from your lips, gripping the base of his hair and his back. he loves how you say his name, how it drips from your lips so sweetly. he bucks his hips a little faster in response, his body moving without thinking. his stubble prickles at your neck as he groans softly against your skin, brows arching as you clench around him.

"just like that," you coo, fingers dancing through the curls that find their home at the back of his head, "don't stop. . ."

mike didn't plan to. he'd fuck you forever if he could, truly. it was always such a serene experience with you, helped his mind go blank, clear those poisonous thoughts. . . mind filled instead with thoughts of fucking you, hearing those pretty little moans, making you cum on his aching cock and burying his load deep inside of you.

and that's exactly what he plans on doing tonight.

one whole fucking year, one whole year. mike wonders how he got so lucky to have you, he prays to a god he doesn't believe in that he'll never lose you like he's lost so many things he's cherished.

"love you. . ." he suddenly whispers against your neck as his pace increases, slamming into you with a force that takes your breath away. the hurried shift in speed has you reeling, gripping him tighter, every thrust pushing you back against the wall.

"f-fuck mike!" you call out, gasping, "love you too baby, don't stop. . . keep fucking me like that, just like that."

he groans deeply, his voice rumbling against your neck as his grip on your thighs intensifies, growing tighter - just like you are around his dick.

you're close, he can tell, and he's not far behind either, lost in a haze of how much he loves you. your thighs begin to tremble against him, your whole body tensing as the pleasure coils and weaves in your lower body, settling across your stomach.

oh fuck, this might be the most intense orgasm you've ever experienced. this angle, the way he's pumping up into you relentlessly, how can it get more -

he looks up at you, sweat beading on his forehead, mouth stained red from the wine, "cum for me." mike pleads.

oh. fuck. it got hotter.

"gonna cum-" you whimper with a nod, arching your back against the wall which allows him to go deeper, hitting that sweet, sweet spot.

when he hears those moans, he knows he's got you. you're gonna cum for him, gonna cum all over him just like he wants you to. he pants at his exertion, thrusting harder, the room filling with sounds of skin slapping against skin. his eyes lock on your face, watching desperately for the moment you fall over the edge.

"c'mon, baby, cum for me. that's it. . ."

and you can't hold back. the orgasm rips through you like a tornado, filling every sense, dismissing every thought, quelling every worry, until everything is just him. it's just him and the way he's fucking you and looking up at you like you're the most beautiful and perfect thing he's ever seen, like he'd go to the ends of the earth and back just to make you smile.

you're moaning like crazy, practically screaming as his dick hits that spot over and over with the way you're angled and the way he's pumping up into you. you clench around him frantically, involuntarily through pleasure, causing him to gasp and for his eyes to grow hazy - a sign that he was about to cum too.

fuck, you love the way his face shifts when he cums. the way his brows relax, mouth falls open, eyes growing distant as his cum fills you nice and deep. and you feel it, the white, hot sticky mess emptying inside of you causing you to moan even more.

you both gasp in pleasure as it overcomes the two of you, mike's thrusts faltering as he empties himself into you. your eyes lock together, watching as you unravel for each other.

as the overwhelming sensations begin to subside, he leans in, capturing your mouth in a hungry, sloppy kiss. you return the favour, chasing his lips with equal messiness - coming down from your high.

"happy anniversary baby. . ." he mumbles against your lips as you smile, swallowing hard as you feel him slowly leak out of you.

you pause, glancing behind him to the table and the meal he'd so generously and thoughtfully made for you, a slight sadness in your tone as you speak up, "shit, sorry. . . think the dinners gone cold?"

"don't need dinner, i already had my dessert," mike chuckles cheekily, kissing the side of your lips, then your cheek, then your nose and back to your lips again.

and you giggle under his onslaught of affection, "yeah, but i didn't. . ." grinning, you lick your lips and glance downwards between you, his dick on your mind again already despite him fucking you senseless just a few moments prior.

his brows raise, a smirk overtaking his features - now all he can imagine is that pretty little mouth of yours wrapped around his hard cock. it wouldn't take him long to get hard again. maybe this anniversary thing wasn't so bad.

mike kisses you once more, pressing you more firmly against the wall as he allows a hand to travel up and rest at the base of your throat.

fuck, if this was your one-year anniversary, what was your two-year anniversary going to be like? your ten-year anniversary? your legs go weak at the thought of mike fucking you just like this for the rest of your life.

"happy anniversary, mike."

.・。.・゜✭・. .・。.・゜✭・. .・。.・゜✭・.

[shwaesar]

More Caesar x Reader HCs

Still SFW but gets suggestive near the end (I'm working up to it ok I'm nervous)

You give him so many conflicting emotions and he never quite manages to come to peace with them. But he comes to peace with not coming to peace with them, if that makes sense.

He knows what he is and takes unapologetic pride in it. He's an ape. A creature forged by nature and nurture, a wild animal at his core, regardless of intelligence. Nothing can change that about him, and that's fine. He doesn't particularly want to change it.

But to love a human being feels almost like a rejection of all that. An ape can't love a human the way another human can. A human can't love an ape the way another ape can. So in a sense, you're both having to redefine your very selves just to try and make it work. To give each other what you want and need, while also adhering to your own wants and needs.

It takes a lot of time and patience to figure it all out, but you get there eventually. Or at least as close to there as you can get.

That thought still lingers in the back of his mind that he's not human enough for you, but on the rare occasion he lets those thoughts known, you're always quick to reassure him that you don't love a human. You love an ape.

'Love' is admittedly used in a nuanced way between the two of you. Love for humans means one thing, love for apes means another. But for you and Caesar, love means to choose one another, despite your many differences.

Maurice is honestly a life saver to have helping you both, educating you about ape romance and reassuring Caesar that his efforts in human romance are-..... well, it's the thought that counts.

He has no idea what he's doing but every now and then he'll pull something off that really cements his devotion to you. After all, he doesn't love an ape. He loves a human.

Flowers end up being his go-to gift, at least when he can get his hands on some. The forest is full of them if you know where to look, and he'll painstakingly pick the 'best' and bind the stems with twine before delivering them to you.

And you keep them in an old soda can filled with water, and about once every few weeks you'll have new ones to decorate your living space with, and Caesar can tell how happy it makes you so he keeps doing it and its honestly precious.

Gift-giving turns out to be a courtship ritual humans and apes have in common! But here's the thing-for humans, gifts are about sentimentality. For apes, they're about practicality.

Every now and then Caesar will bring you an 'ape' gift between more 'human' ones.

Once you've started eating more with the community and he doesn't have to bring you designated meals anymore, he starts surprising you with full on carcasses when he returns from a hunt. A testament to his ability to provide for you, at least in his mind.

They get progressively bigger too. Starts with a few hares. Then a boar. Then a stag.

He delivers you a fucking bear he found hibernating in the winter months, and you get a brilliant fur pelt out of it. Being able to keep you warm makes him swell with pride like nothing else, even if you can't help but feel a little bad for the bear.

You also receive a stone dagger after it's clear their usual weapons are too big and heavy for you. It's carved a bit clumsily, but the edge is sharp and there's a patch of rabbit skin wrapped around the handle to make gripping more comfortable. He feels a lot more confident in your ability to protect yourself once you have it, and seeing you use it is another thing that's makes his chest puff out proudly, because he has made sure you're safe, even when he's not around.

Of coarse, most of the time he is around.

And oh boy, when danger comes he is ready. Doesn't matter if it's a wild animal, another ape, another human- he will fuck a bitch up if they pose a threat to you.

The first time it happens is honestly a little scary. You run into a boar while foraging and it does not look happy, and neither does Caesar.

Blocks off your body with his own, fur standing on end, snarling and hooting aggressively at the creature to try and scare it off. His mind is racing with primal instinct the entire time- he has to protect his mate, has to be ready to go for the kill if it charges at you, he can't let his human get hurt-

It's also the first time you get a good look at his chompers, his lips pulled back to show them off in warning, and it suddenly strikes you how easily those teeth could be used against your own delicate flesh if he so desired, how effortlessly he could maul you, bite your fingers off one by one, rip out your throat-

Let's face it though, it definitely awakens something in you.

When the encounters over he has a nasty cut on his thigh from its tusks, and you get him home to treat the wound as quickly as possible. He's apologising the whole time for loosing his usual self control, for potentially frightening you. But then you tell him it suits him, and lord have mercy, once he processes it, you've awakened something in him too.

But that's a conversation for another post uwu

FOREHEAD KISSES

EXPECT THEM OFTEN

Even before anything's official, it's a gesture of trust and familiarity between the two of you. But when you're his mate, the romantic side of it is delved into more deeply.

Cupping each other's faces to hold the position of your temples touching, intense eye contact, deep breaths. It's a kind of intimacy that really burrows deep into you. Without words, he's able to tell you; I'm here. I've got you.

Human kisses are a bit trickier. He's familiar with the concept, he's seen humans kiss, but ape mouths are a lot bigger than ours and have a lot of different things to work around in order to really kiss something.

He's content to just receive them initially. Your lips are so soft and warm and feel so wonderful pressing against the corner of his own, or to his cheek, or to his open palm. Getting such a human form of affection from you carries almost a level of sanctity for him. Only you have ever kissed him. Only you will ever kiss him.

He'll take it to his grave, but he practices on the back of his hand sometimes so he can eventually return the favour.

Until then, the closest you get is him pressing his closed muzzle to your skin and just... inhaling your scent,

He tells you humans have a distinct smell, but individual humans have their own, more specific smell. When you ask what yours is like, he admittedly has to take a moment to think about it.

"You smell.... like home."

Sweet, right? WRONG. He just doesn't want to admit that he's been subtly making you smell more like him. Gotta make sure his territory is clearly his, after all.

AND SPEAKING OF MARKING TERRITORY

Biting.

He doesnt dare try it at first, too aware of the risks. Human skin is much too thin and sensitive for him to indulge in such a a way, no, he just can't bring himself to potentially do you serious harm, regardless of how badly he wants to.

You'd have to be the one to initiate a conversation about it. You can tell he's restraining himself here and there, from the low growls that slip out when he's embracing you, and with how his tongue drags across his canines, it's not hard to tell what he's holding back in regards to.

So you ask him to bite you. If it's a request, he won't worry that you're just trying to appease him.

He'd still cautious, mind you.

"Are you... sure?"

He says it while all but salivating, eyes dilated as he subconsciously scans your body for a good place.

"Don't want.... to hurt you. It will hurt. You... know that."

With just a little more insistence, he all but pounces at the opportunity.

Apes bite each other affectionately quite a bit, little nips here and there, harder ones usually reserved between mates. It holds meaning for them, displaying trust in the other person. You trusting him like that? He's never been more in love with you than he is in that moment.

He goes for the space between your neck and shoulder, carefully avoiding any major arteries. You feel his breath there first, as he does his usual snuffing and growling.

Then his teeth sink into you. Slowly, his broad tongue pressing into the flesh between them.

And the sound you make-

He pulls back abruptly, releasing you with a hoot of distress and grasping your upper arms to look over the mark left behind. Panic jolts through every fibre of his being, he thinks he seriously fucked up. Apes don't vocalise like that-it must be in pain, yes-you're in too much pain-he should never have-....

....

Oh.

....

Oh.

[rkaln]

its akatsuki!Lee propaganda & #like what is the lore

part III

and what does suna's anbu have to do with it? it will be later, but the sktch with anbu!Lee bcse that's what I'm going to end up with... god, the list of my <thing>!Lee doesn't look like a joke anymore…

going back to the last part

> gaara really feels guilty. in general, it looks like Lee literally found himself in the position that Gaara has always been in, and which he is trying so hard to fix. so a one-time dialogue with an apology should end with an unspoken

"you can come if necessary, and you will be accepted/ not handed over"

> So over time it becomes a safe space and a place where one might not be "akatsuki given that, definitely, over time, Lee may have thought that he would like to return home, but understanding how impossible it is now does not give reason to consider such an option

***

a little offtop, but DO YOU REMEMBER THIS FILLER? I know that filler is not canon, but it fits so well into this AU. because my reasoning boiled down to the fact that orochimaru perfectly manipulates emotions and, in fact, there were no guarantees that Tsunade would have been found at all, but Guy? if before the filler, I put it into the fact that Lee could reason that he would prove to him that it was the right decision. And she will only show herself to him when she can prove it. then AFTER this filler, I consider it one of the main triggers for making a decision.

(ok, no one will deny that Lee is very emotional, and in fact there are enough moments in the canon when it acquires an aggressively dark character, but a really difficult emotional state also plays a role here, and if to a huge offense towards Sasuke and doubts about the life position that "really everything can be done with the help of your own work." ADD THIS MOMENT FROM THE FILLER TO IT?? moreover, he is still, you know, a teenager)

s o, this is one of the reasons why I don't consider that he would return to Guy. if at first it was anger and resentment, then with time and the realization of some other things, it would just come down to shame and guilt.

***

> so Gaara and Lee have much more understanding of each other in this AU at the level of life experience.

So even taking into account the fact that they had no interaction here except for the arch of the exam (because the arch with Sasuke's persecution is already superimposed on the time when Lee left), gaara would still be ready to provide unconditional acceptance to him, because he knows that if you do shitty things and everyone around sees only this, matching something else is too difficult

-> running into the "safe space" becomes something quite stable over time

> what about sex? here it is for me the same "slowburn, but they fuck regularly"

AU, in which I believe that sex appeared before "relationships" because:

- no one ever knows if there will be a next meeting at all, because this is not the case when you will receive a letter telling you what happened

- it is also a more "simple" way of interaction, where you do not need to put everything into words or think about social norms

as part of the speech about rough sex, here is a little more detail.

and with a reference to the dialogue about "bad people" in the previous part

The longer Lee stays in Akatsuki, the more he returns to the fact that, according to his worldview, he is still a bad person.

There was no such dialogue between them, so sooner or later Gaara must turn away from him too.

"he just didn't understand."

"he hasn't seen what kind of person I am yet."

"I don't deserve to be accepted and treated like this."

... and Gaara's absolute indifference to these facts even starts to anger to some extent.

"he just doesn't believe in what I can be."

(actually, it's funny separately, because generally remembering that they are ninjas in the canon, is it that "I will become the strongest ninja who cannot use chakra" actually sounds like "I will be the best at killing on my own," you know)

so one day it will come to Lee's attempts to cross the line, to grope for the boundary of this acceptance. (so sex is involved in this too) "now he'll understand and push me away" "after that he won't be able to accept me"

It's clear that this is pretty stupid considering Gaara's experience.

of course, it doesn't work. more precisely, it works as a confirmation that there were no borders there.

so rough sex is also a separate tool of interaction, in which Lee can be convinced of acceptance, not to mention some other things like personal emotions, feelings of possession, etc., and for Gaara, it's just something in which he (FINALLY) can not be responsible for his actions. (here I'm talking about the fact that Gaara's whole life is surrounded by responsibility for others, and responsibility for what you did in the past), not to mention some other things like personal emotions etc lol

[choiwonder]

HELLO NEIGHBOR . JOHNNY SUH

tw/cw ༝ 0.5k wc, smooth talker johnny, usage of pet names (sweetheart, baby), suggestive, he is so flirty it has me giggling and kicking my feet, making out. if you would like to make me happy just send me johnny fics & pics <333

neighbor! johnny that can be found, hanging out in the front yard, lengthy body glistening in the sun with shades over his eyes, resting on a beach chair with mark and yuta. he watches a moving truck enter the private community, parking in the driveway of the home directly next to his. curiosity peaked, it was a surprise to find you, a rather young looking individual, in a community filled with older ones, moving all your boxes into the house yourself.

neighbor! johnny who shares no hesitance in providing assistance, introducing himself. how could a cute little thing such as yourself be doing this all alone? with a flash of his smile, and a few words, johnny’s charm took its effect. he’s still got it. he’s such a good talker. every hour you spent putting your belongings inside, he’s engaging in conversation, making you laugh and wonder why are guys like this so rare to find? it’s the bare minimum, you tell yourself, forcing your heart and mind to ignore any rushed feelings that might arise for this man.

“what’s your name, sweetheart?” he grins, leaning against the frame of your door. the sun has set, yuta has left, mark had gone inside and all your belongings were safely stored.

he listens carefully, watching your lips move, repeating the name to himself a few times, “well, y/n, i wanna come over tomorrow to help with the rest of this, is that okay?”

neighbor! johnny that keeps his promise of coming over the next day, heading to you as soon as he got off work. you don’t question the absence of mark and yuta, secretly yearning for some time alone. he’ll get you a bottle of liquor he stole from work as a first souvenir for your home, encouraging that you have some together.

“wanna taste?” he’ll joke (not rlly), seething as he swallows and pointing to his lips. they’re lightly coated in the alcohol, resembling a gloss. only making them look more tempting to taste. yes, you think. you want to so so badly but fight every voice that tells you to do so and bite down on your bottom lip, shaking your head with a laugh.

neighbor! johnny who encourages you to succumb to your urges, trapping you in the corner of your kitchen. your back is pressed against the counter, breath rate on the rise as you could feel his body heat surround your space. it’s criminal how good he smells.

“come on, just a taste,” he’ll grin. stop. don’t make that face, “i promise i won’t bite, baby.” fuck it.

neighbor! johnny that finally gets to mold his lips against yours, one hand finding loose placement around your neck whilst the other digs under your shirt, squeezing desperately at the skin. it’s funny, really. how quick you’ve got him ready to touch you in ways that no other person has and how quick you’re whining under his lanky frame, making him wonder how long its been since someone has had you like this. his lips nibble up the skin of your jaw, reaching the sensitive skin of your ear, “let’s take this back to my place.”

© choiwonder ༝ do not copy, translate, modify or repost any of my work on any platform, or claim it as your own.

[belit0]

I feel filthy for asking this. 😌 But I’ll wear my shame with pride. HC for Uchiha’s walking in on fem!xreader using a hairbrush to masturbate with? Do they help? Or are down dirty with the fact that she took pleasure into her own hands? 😈 To make things interesting, they’re not s/o, just merely friends or acquaintances.

Babyyyy, you're safe here, nothing of feeling dirty about it!!!❤️‍🩹🛐

My only job it's to make all of u horny, so I'm happy to oblige😩💕

Indra

- With this man, there is no such thing as just friends or acquaintances, Indra has owned her (at least in his head) from the very first moment he decided he wanted her all to himself. This guy's possessiveness is enormous, and he can't stand to see his wife (at least, again, in his head) take such matters into her own hands. He will snatch the comb out of her grasp, and fuck her right then and there, regardless of what she says.

Madara

- He doesn't quite know how to react, unsure whether he should be there in the first place or not. Madara was simply passing by (Y/N)'s house to discuss some things, entering upon noticing the door strangely open. Of course he never thought he'd hear moaning and see this image, almost virginal panic running through his veins. He decides to leave and pretend he didn't see anything, but will touch himself with that image in mind almost every night.

Izuna

- Right off the bat, let's make clear that this boy is a pervert. Encountering such a scene only provides unexpected pleasure, a source of inspiration, and he tries not to be noticed by (Y/N) while spying on her. He stands behind the door and records every second of it with his Sharingan, storing up motives for later fucking her without shame. Now that Izuna saw her in action, he will do everything he can to get that wonderful pussy.

Obito

- Panic at its peak. Obito calmly walked into the room without many thoughts in mind, trying to ask some questions to (Y/N). They both look each other in the eyes at the exact moment the comb enters her, and the woman seems to move it on purpose in front of his gaze. Not knowing what to do, he utters an embarrassed "sorry" before running away.

Shisui

- Served on a silver platter. Shisui has had his eye on this woman for some time now, looking for opportunities to insinuate himself and get her between his sheets with pretty words. Life seems to smile on him when he finds her rubbing her clit with the comb, and without hesitation, he occupies the space between her legs with his tongue after asking her if she wants it that way.

Itachi

- Hot and bothered. He desires (Y/N) from the first moment he saw her, beautiful and perfect woman taking his mind hostage and crushing any coherent thought. Sure, it's a beautiful image, seeing her vulnerable and in a state of pure arousal, but it's not how he wants this to happen. He pretends he didn't see anything, deciding that if he fucks her, it's because she wants it too.

[deleteddewewted]

What It’s Like To Date Simon “Ghost” Riley

W/N: I'm using the comics and combining them with the reboot MW2. I recommend reading them to understand some of this, there's SA, Abuse, and many more disturbing subjects. I'm also not going to romanticize abuse here, this is more of Simon lashing out due to fear and it's not excused. We're not going to pull a Colleen Hoover.

W: Child Abuse, Angst, Fluff, Hurt With Comfort, Insinuated sex, Sexual Abuse, Talks of Torture, Mental Illness, Unhealthy Relationships, Disturbed Simon Riley, Friends With Benefits, Eventual Relationship, Eventual Monogomy, Minor Soap/Ghost

He’s scared of himself.

He’s especially terrified of you.

You provide him with a comfort he’s never known outside of his mother's.

He feels like vomiting when you hold his hands in your own or make him dinner instead of letting him eat his MREs.

You don't treat him like a child but you do make him feel safe like his mother once made him feel.

You shushed the voices in his head away as you slipped your hands underneath his balaclava and brushed his hair.

You pressed your body close to his and wrapped your arms around his body so he'd feel as protected as you did.

You were an anchor to him. One he didn't want to be ripped away from.

When he wakes up sweaty and panting, he reaches for you and the knife he keeps under his pillow.

He couldn't save himself in his nightmares but he sure can keep you safe.

He could save you.

You'd kiss his knuckles, because kissing his neck set him on edge, and mumble about how lovely he is.

"You're human Simon, it doesn't matter how damaged you think you are, I still love you just as you love me."

He'd scream at times.

At you and it hurt him when he'd snap out of it.

His words were all bitter and filled with venom but they nearly never phased you unless it was about things you've shared with him that were intimate.

"You're as shit as I am! You're shit! I'm shit! I hate you! You make me feel weak! I wish you'd die!" He was red and tense in the face. His mask was off and on the floor all while he walked out of your shared apartment to fuck off somewhere where his anger could fizzle out.

The apartment had felt cramped and your questions about his day set him off.

He felt like he was suffocating with just how domestic the space felt and how happy you looked while you prepped dinner for the two of you.

Simon met reason at a bar while 6 drinks deep.

He groaned all while paying for his drinks and heading home, piss drunk and feeling numb.

He shouldn't have felt hurt when you disappeared for the night, not when you didn't kiss him awake the next morning.

He had no right to cry while he ate the dinner you had taken the time to wrap it up with plastic and put it in the fridge for him to heat up later.

He cried all night while hugging the shirt you used for bed.

He waited for you to come back, he even called your friends to see if any of them knew where you were. By the end of the week, he had to head back to base and you didn't kiss him goodbye.

While deployed, you sent him a letter.

You didn't mention the way he hurt you nor the ugliness he bought into your life. You just wrote about how you miss his warmth and that you'll have dinner ready for him when he got back.

"So... I'm guessing you guys are a thing?" It all felt awkward, Soap had felt the tension that Ghost had carried into work after his short leave.

All Ghost had done during their deployment was turn on his phone to stare at the home screen.

Your smile was bright and your eyes soft.

You were a sight to behold. Ghost wanted you there with him.

He needed to feel you again.

"We're just fuck buddies, nothing more." The term left a sour taste in his mouth because he wanted to be more too.

Fear ate at him as he dreamt of you taking care of him. Your hand on his cock all while you whispered sweet nothings into his ear and your other hand playing with his hair.

He was compliant to your touch and all he could do was whine and moan at your gentle touch.

He wakes up with dry cum in his briefs and tears in his eyes. He misses you.

When he gets back he makes sure to grab your favorite takeout and a bottle of wine.

You look tired when you open the door. The bags under your eyes and the confusion that sets in while you look at his bare face.

"What are you doing here, Simon?" You're not mad. He wanted you to yell at him because he knows he deserves it but you instead just look at him like nothing happened.

"I wanted to fix things. I want to make this work." He can feel his eyes start to water and he hands you his gifts before getting down on his knees and holding onto your legs.

You pat his head and comfort him all while he cries and begs you to take him back.

He's a man eaten by his demons but that wasn’t a real excuse for his cruelty.

He was acting like his father and he wanted to die because of it.

"We can make this work, but only if you get professional help. Because Simon," You lower yourself to the floor and hug him. Your chest pressed against his head, his ear right on top of your heart. "I can't save you from your past. I can't be that person. Not again. Not anymore, but I will always love you."

He nods as he listens to your heartbeat. He promises to do better and he promises to look for help.

So he does.

The therapist is more helpful this time around. She listened to him and his fears of losing you.

He's a little scared though. His thoughts take him to places he wishes he couldn't go to but he has to face the music if wants to get better.

Every session is trying, his eyes dry and swollen from crying and shaking while he recounted the horrors of the past.

You stood there, arms open and a warm meal ready for him to eat every time he got back home.

"Thank you, love." He grew comfortable with kissing you.

No longer teeth on flesh with hickeys left behind but tenderly, loving.

He told you more about his life, his childhood, how much he missed his family, how much he wanted to be normal so he could maybe, someday, have one of his own with you.

"Would you want that with me?" He cried as he continued to eat his meal. He was so grateful for your care even while he choked on his own saliva.

"Oh, Simon. I told you I'll always be here for you and I intend to keep that promise." You helped him clean up.

You made sure to get him into bed dry and with warm clothes before letting him lay on top of you.

Most nights he talks to you about the things his father would do to him. The beatings, the lashings, the mental torment.

"She probably had a family. Maybe had friends looking for her. And she died in a dingy toilet thanks to my dad." His breath hitched as he felt the tears well up again. "I feel like I'm to blame for her passing."

You didn't speak back but instead provided comfort.

He fell asleep with his arms wrapped around you and his face tucked in your neck.

He was home, safe, and loved. He felt nourished, his skin finally fitting over his bones.

He felt human all while he listened to your heartbeat and felt your chest raise and fall as you slipped into slumber.

Ghost was no longer someone who had to hide all the ugly from you, Simon would make sure to set him right if it meant being able to have one more night with you.

Like this, on you, sleeping, and knowing you were his.

[actual-changeling]

Do you think Aziraphale has been verbally, emotionally and psychologically abused by Heaven as well?

I will answer this question like one asked in good faith even though my gut is telling me there's a 50/50 chance it is very much not one.

So!

There are two parts to his answer, or rather one question is actually two.

Firstly, we have to talk about whether heaven is abusive, what that abuse looks like, and how it differs from hell.

Secondly, how did the results of question one affect Aziraphale, if it is different from what the other angels in heaven face, and what additional trauma might he have experienced due to being on earth.

I could write a 10k meta post about this and go into the finest detail, but I will just try and stick to the main points for now. It's still going to be way too long because I am so fucking tired of people accusing me of 'hating' Aziraphale or harassing me on my posts or in my inbox.

Is heaven abusive? Yes, and it applies to both heaven as an institution and the Archangels running it.

Getting to know Muriel and what their life looks like was extremely helpful in properly defining this, because they showed us that although the Archangels tend to travel and work as a group, most of the angels are incredibly isolated.

The result is complete emotional neglect, which not only impairs your ability to form and maintain healthy relationships with other people, it also stops your from learning emotional regulation and how to behave and feel as a part of (angelic) society. We see the consequences of that in Muriel, who comes across as overly naive, socially awkward, and out of touch with not just people but themselves.

When your entire life has been shrunk down to what happens inside your own head, suddenly being confronted with having to live outside of your mind is jarring, overwhelming, and foreign.

How do you talk to people when no one ever taught you how to do that? How do you behave around someone after a lifetime of being alone? How do your regulate your responses to their behaviour?

Who are you when there is someone else to perceive you?

Figuring that out is complicated and it takes time, and while most of the angels are only distantly aware of how humans live and what kind of interactions some of the other angels might have, the effects of that neglect stay the same whether they are aware of it or not.

Muriel shows us that angels are not born/made as a blank slate, and neither are humans for that matter. Tabula rasa as a philosophical belief is one thing, but reality is very, very different.

Angels also appear to have the same inherent need for connection, for a caretaker that loves them unconditionally, for someone to help them figure out how to be, and that provides a safe space to make mistakes. Without some or all of that, you grow up into a disregulated, socially awkward if not inept person who does not know how to have relationships or how to properly exist.

It is one of the reasons why autistic people are a) almost always traumatized to some degree and b) do not know how to socialize. No one ever works with our brains, and the resulting neglect is very similar to not receiving any help at all.

If you are now curious what happens if you're both autistic and were completely socially neglected, the result is uh. me. Hi! Not nice, but at least I am very sure I win the award for being my therapist's most fucked up client, so that's something.

Yet the angels are not solely emotionally neglected, the system/household they live in demands a low self-esteem, a lack of individual identity, and complete adherence to a defined ideology and behavioural pattern. In short, you are told how to be a useless, tiny part in a bigger machine, that your only purpose is to succeed at your tasks, and any opportunity for individual development is removed or destroyed.

If you are now once again curious what that might be like, uh, yeah, hi once more. Obviously my childhood was not exactly like an angels life, but the core characteristics were the same, just realized differently. Again, not pretty, really, really fucks you over.

Take that and the neglect, combine it into one person, and then drop them in the Garden of Eden—hello Aziraphale! Crowley got dropped into hell first, experienced more abuse, and then dug his way up into Eden before joining him.

Aziraphale experienced everything Muriel (and Crowley, and every other celestial being) also experienced, with one main difference: He is the one who got away.

We have to remember that out of every single celestial being, Aziraphale got the best deal. He did not fall, he got out of heaven (more or less) permanently, and was then largely left alone.

Does that erase anything I laid out above? No, of course not!

It simply provided him with the opportunity to heal, to take his cPTSD and who knows what other disorders he developed as a result, and start recovering.

Canonically, heaven did not bother him, like, ever, except for the odd note about 'frivolous miracles' or ten minutes of catching up every millennia. They only started monitoring him once they started to suspect he was involved with Crowley and trying to stop the apocalypse from happening.

Aziraphale worked on some things, he got better in many regards, especially with Crowley there to support him, but after six thousand years, many aspects have stayed the same or regressed back to the start over and over.

I will tell you a hard pill to swallow now: If you refuse to acknowledge your issues to instead live in a world of nicer denial and compartmentalization even when you have been offered the chance to change it, that is partly on YOU.

Is it fair? Fuck no! It's not fair at all, and I have had so many breakdowns over that fact. I did not break it, this is not my FAULT so why should I have to fix it all on my own? Why do I have to do the work, not them? How come they get away with it while I am going to have to carry this for the rest of my life?

I still have to do it though. I have to do the work, no matter how uncomfortable and exhausting, because I want to get better.

-

This conversation has so many facets and is a lot more complex, but this is already long enough, so if you have any questions or want to know something specific (while asking politely and in good faith) just send me an ask; I will do my best to answer it.

-

We are now only missing the last part of question 2, and that one is also so fucking complicated reducing it to the main points almost feels wrong, but I will do it anyway. Again, just ask if you have questions.

Abusive households are horrible, and you want to get out and away, but they are also the only thing you know. The world is scary, too big, too open, where did all the rules go that were previously defining your life?

Surviving in an abusive environment means you establish routine after routine after routine for every possible horrible scenario, you write a mental rule book to try and reduce the abuse (don't make them angry, don't cry when they're already shouting, don't do this, don't do that, do x but not y), and THAT is your socialization. THAT is everything you know, everything you are, everything you know relationships to be like.

Once you are away from that, you are completely and utterly lost. Even breathing feels like making a mistake, you feel watched, judged, rated, berated, you have them stuck in your fucking head. So you keep sticking to what you know, your behavioural patterns that have kept you safe your entire life.

The problem is that they kept you safe, past tense. In a healthy environment, all of those coping mechanisms are now maladaptive and harm you instead of keeping you safe.

However, breaking out of them and starting from scratch is terrifying. So, so, so terrifying. I live in constant fear, I feel judged and unsafe in my own flat with the curtains shut and the lights on. I feel like I am about to get subjected to another one of his fits for daring to use the stove.

No matter what you do, your body and brain are SCREAMING at you that diverging from what you know will kill you—and then you have to do it anyway.

Do it alone and afraid and awkwardly but DO IT. Otherwise you will always find a way to recreate the environment you grew up in, whether that is people getting into unhealthy relationships and replicating the patterns they know (which Aziraphale does with Crowley, e.g. the push-pull of his affection) or eventually even returning to it because they ruined you, but a part of you is so, so attached to them you just have to try and change them.

Some people can move on from it without going back, but sometimes you need to try and experience that failure for yourself before being able to move on, and that's where Aziraphale is at.

He needs to try and fail to be capable of finally committing to recovering.

So, to summarize this entire shitshow: Yes, Aziraphale experienced emotional neglect and abuse, and while it is different to what Crowley went through and objectively less intense and physical, it is still just as valid and horrid.

Just because a car accident is objectively worse than falling off a bike doesn't mean the biker's pain is unimportant. Both can kill you, both can hurt you, and both deserve to get their injuries treated.

Questions?

[kckt88]

Cruel Intentions - SNEAK PEEK!

Summary:

Two brothers who attend an elite university make a bet: to deflower the new dean's daughter before the start of the new semester.

Warning(s): Language, Drug Taking, Slight Homophobic Language, Bet Making, Maniplulation, Kissing, Loss of Virginity, Smut – Fingering, Oral Sex (M & F Receiving), P in V, Safe Sex, Major Character Death.

MODERN AEMOND x O.C

HEAVILY INSPIRED BY THE MOVIE - CRUEL INTENTIONS

Word Count: TBC

Taglist -

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon or Fire & Blood characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used.

Comments, likes, and reblogs are very much appreciated.

“I accept-now what are the actual terms of the bet?” asked Aemond.

“You know the new dean’s daughter-“

“-Reese Hargrove?” asked Aemond.

“Yeah, that one-little miss prim and proper thinks she too good for anyone, so I say we knock her down a peg or two” replied Aegon.

“-And how do we do that?”

“You will seduce her and then discard her” said Aegon.

“Seriously? That’s too easy-not even remotely enough of a challenge, got one of those moron friends of yours to do it” laughed Aemond.

“Did I mention that she’s a proper daddy’s little princess-“

“Again boring” said Aemond yawning.

“-And a virgin” replied Aegon smirking.

“How’d you know that?” asked Aemond curiously.

“I take it you didn’t read her little manifesto in the University magazine” asked Aegon as he threw a copy onto the glass table.

“Menstrual cramps?” asked Aemond as he glanced at the front cover.

“Shut up and turn to page sixty four” snapped Aegon.

Aemond rolled his eye and picked up the magazine, he flicked through the pages until he found the one, he wanted.

“Why I plan to wait by Reese Hargrove-Jesus christ is she for real?” asked Aemond.

“Oh, she’s daddy’s little angel-a paradigm of chastity and virtue”.

“Hm” muttered Aemond as Aegon ripped the magazine from his grasp.

“Let’s see-boring, boring, boring-I love my parents, boring, boring, boring-making a mature decision-oh here, she has a boyfriend named Trevor, been going out for a year and he understands” said Aegon mockingly.

“Trevors gay” snarked Aemond rolling his eye.

“My point is-you and I have fucked our way through most of the girls at university, which is hardly a challenge anymore”.

“So, all I have to do is fuck her and I win the bet?” asked Aemond.

“Pretty much-but if you’re thinking it’ll be easy then your wrong-” muttered Aegon.

“How do you even know that?

“Remember that up tight chick I told you about over Easter?” said Aegon.

“The one who broke your nose after you tried to finger-wait that was her?” asked Aemond trying to stifle his laughter.

A girl with some bite to her-now this could be interesting.

“Yes, it was her, proper humiliated me in front of everyone so now it’s payback time”.

“So, this bet is just your desperate attempt at getting revenge against a girl who wasn’t interested in you-for fuck sake Aegon” muttered Aemond running a hand through his sandy blonde hair.

“Oh, cut the moral high ground shit brother it doesn’t suit you-or do I need to remind you of the time you fucked your way through all four of the Baratheon sisters in the space of a week”.

“Far point-so I fuck Hargrove and then what?” asked Aemond.

“Providing you have proof of the deed being done, then I’ll let you fuck Alys” replied Aegon.

“What does Alys have to say about all of this-” mused Aemond.

“Well of course I asked her before I discussed things with you, and she agreed-“

“-Just like that?” asked Aemond disbelief.

“We have a semi open relationship remember-as long we tell each other that we want to fuck someone else, then it’s ok. Sometimes we even share” shrugged Aegon.

“Well, I’m not into sharing” growled Aemond.

“Do you seriously think I want to see your bare arse-no thanks. I just meant that me and Alys are open to many forms of expressing ourselves and our love” said Aegon.

“-And you’re ok with her potentially fucking your own brother?”

“You have to win the bet first” laughed Aegon.

“-And if I fail?”

“I get your car which I will make sure to fuck Alys in” quipped Aegon smirking.

“Fine-you’re on” said Aemond holding out his hand.

“There was me thinking you’d need a little more convincing” said Aegon smirking as he shook his brother's hand.

“Thing is, can you imagine what this would do for my reputation? Screwing the new deans daughter before the semester starts” mused Aemond.

“Would be one of your greatest victories-aside from the school nurse that you fucked last year, I’m still surprised they didn’t kick you out for that” said Aegon reaching for his silver cross necklace and pulling away the end.

The white power lingering on the small scoop spilled over the edge as Aegon lifted it to his nose and inhaled it in one sharp breath.

“Speaking of getting kicked out-if mum and dad see you doing that again, they will go crazy, they told you last time that there were no more chances” said Aemond.

“What they don’t know won’t hurt them-besides you need to start making nice with Reese”.

“I suppose this would make an interesting chapter”.

“Oh, gee your journal, could you be any more queer?” said Aegon.

“Could you be more desperate to read it” smirked Aemond, his grip tightening around his leather bound journal.

“I would say good luck brother-you’re going to need it-besides it might be worth mentioning that you only have a limited time in which to get Hargrove into bed” replied Aegon.

“What do you mean?”

“Her father’s preoccupied with getting ready for the new semester, so Reese is staying at our aunt’s place for a few weeks, but I also know that she’ll be spending the last two weeks of summer break at her grandmothers-so that means you’ve only got four weeks to win the bet” said Aegon.

“FUCK” exclaimed Aemond as he turned on his heel and left the room.

[liquidluckandstuff]

Harry having an eating disorder. All from Dursley abuse

He feels extremely uncomfortable eating in front of other people and only takes a bite when he thinks other people aren't looking.

Hides food in his pockets even after being there for months because he is so used to not knowing when he is going to be fed next.

Binging every now and again because he feels safe enough to eat and doesn't know when that will happen again but ends up throwing it all up later because he feels so guilty about wasting food on himself.

He loves that Mrs. Weasley wants to feed him, but hates how much pressure she puts onto him to eat.

Harry finds quiet hidden places in the castle to sit on the floor and snack on something he took from the Great Hall just so he can feel comfortable. He particularly likes cupboards

Shall I add in some Voldemort stuff too?

Harry has visions of Voldemort when he is feeling too strong of an emotion, but Voldemort has visions of Harry when he is just too hungry.

Harry got better about his problem, but after the graveyard its worse than ever.

Voldemort doesn't understand why Harry would do something like this to himself until Harry is sitting in the great hall and is afraid to eat a sandwich. It's not even just that. The boy can't sit at a table and take a bite at the same time. His mind is rejecting the thought.

He watches Harry take small bites in corridors or hiding in his bed. He watches as Harry gets thinner and thinner and has to glamor himself to hide how bad it's become.

He watches as Harry faints in the hallways after a detention with Umbridge because blood loss + no food = bad times.

It makes it all to easy to kidnap Harry. A starving mind is not in the right spot to defend itself.

He doesn't even want to kill Harry anymore. Not with as weak as he has become. It becomes more of an experiment.

He provides Harry with food and space.

one time he offered Harry lunch and of course Harry refused for every reason. Until Voldemort made them both a plate, vanished the chairs, and then crawled under the table to eat in silence. Harry thought it was ridiculous until suddenly the plate of food didn't look so intimidating and he was able to take a few bites.

Voldemort sees him hiding food, and offers him a snack or two every time he sees him even if they only separated for an hour.

He doesn't comment on Harry's appearance, and hides every mirror so Harry doesn't have to agonize over the way he looks everyone is always so obsessed with how he looks (just like your father except your eyes ) (he's so thin! Harry why dont' you grab an extra plate) (have you seen that scar?)

Slowly, Harry starts feeling more secure and joins others at the dinner table, although he still loves sitting on the floor with Voldemort in their own private time

and yeah sure Harry finds it really really hard to betray the man who sits with him and makes him breakfast just the way he likes it because he'd never had an option to try things like that before it's always just been decided for him

and then Harry's studies become better because now he can eat and has to make someone proud.

I can do this all fucking day

[silent-moons-camp]

Got some Q's for Stigandr Tavrinth pls and thank you!

Random selected but I like these questions: (if it's too much sorry!!! got excited lol)

-What is your character's favorite physical trait they possess?

-What is something your character would refuse to wear?

-What is something your character is proud to own?

-Who would your character ask first if they needed medical help?

-Who would your character say knows them best?

-Where is your character's safe space?

Aaaa thank you! Love answering questions about Stigandr because he's still not fully developed yet and these questions help me make decisions about him. No need to apologize!!!

-What is your character's favorite physical trait they possess?

Stigandr takes GREAT pride in his beard and hair. This man is hairy as fuck and probably has a whole routine he goes through every morning to ensure it's perfect. Stigandr is not a vain person, but appearances are important when it comes to being a Paladin. He's gotta strike a balance of being intimidating enough to his enemies and approachable enough from those he seeks to protect. (Maybe there's some personal backstory regarding his affinity for braids. My friend has a character whose culture holds great importance on braids and their meanings, and I've been inspired by that since, lol.)

-What is something your character would refuse to wear?

I don't think he's actually too picky on clothing. I would say clothing of the enemy, but I did put him in some Absolute apparel when the gang infiltrated Moonrise. I suppose... maybe he wouldn't want to wear lighter armors? I mean he would if he had to, but he prefers heavier sets of armor that are more likely to protect him.

-What is something your character is proud to own?

He is VERY proud of the Amulet of Greater Health that he snagged from the House of Hope. Not only is it super useful, but he finds great pleasure in stealing from Raphael.

(Considering I play on Explorer difficulty and with a no party limit mod... this amulet feels like cheating, even moreso than usual lmao)

-Who would your character ask first if they needed medical help?

He would probably try to take care of the wounds himself first. He has his own healing spells, of course, but if he's unable or out of magic, he'd go to Shadowheart. Stigandr is a humble man who knows he needs to be in good health in order to help others and find a cure, so he doesn't dawdle when it comes to wounds. If Shads is unavailable, he'll go to Jaheira or Halsin.

(Also, of course he'd go to Shadowheart. The inherent eroticism of being healed by your love interest is too great to pass up.)

-Who would your character say knows them best?

I would say that my yet-to-be-created Dark Urge character knows him best. Stigandr is a werewolf, and so is this Dark Urge character I'm rotating around in my brain. I think the two have been traveling together for some time in search of a cure for their lycanthropy, and as such, the two become good friends (in spite of her murderous thoughts and bloodlust, lol). Obviously him and Shadowheart grow close and I would say she ends up as one of the people who know him best, and in ways that my Durge probably never would.

-Where is your character's safe space?

Stigandr finds himself most safe within nature, or within distance of a religious site. Stigandr is an Oath of Devotion paladin, yes, but he is a paladin of Tyr also. While he spent his early years in Baldur's Gate, he spent most of his young life in Fortress Faithful, the Church of Tyr in Tethyr. Nature also because he just finds it to be beautiful, and of course, because of lycanthropy. (Image nabbed from the Forgotten Realms wiki.)

Thank you for the ask!!! I had fun answering these and providing some images :)

Ask me questions about my OCs from this post!

[masterqwertster]

Noticing trauma prompts - oh boy, you'll be getting a couple of these from me!

First up: #23 with Ashton and Imogen or another member of Bell's Hells of your choice.

23 "Don't focus on them. Just focus on me." Honestly, a great pick for Imogen and Ashton given their respective brain magic deals. Prompt

"Hey, no no no. Don't focus on them. Just focus on me."

Which, probably isn't the best advice in the world, given their whole crazy chaos-magic-in-the-brain thing. But better their mildly-known brand of bullshit than whatever the fuck these creepy fuckers have going on in their heads that is freaking Imogen the fuck out.

Ashton grabs Imogen's face and makes sure the only thing her unfocused eyes have to look at is his face. The last thing she needs once she's back here with him is a reminder that they're in a fucking shitty situation.

"Come on," Ashton pleads, giving her cheek some gentle pats. "Get your mind out of whatever fucking gutter they live in. Think in. Fuck."

This would be going so much better if Laudna were here, what with the way Imogen's practically addicted to the spook's thought music or whatever. It'd probably be better with any of the other Hells here, since their minds aren't potential psychic bombs like his. But it's just Ashton and Imogen caught by these ghosty red motherfuckers.

Finally, they feel that hard to describe but familiar sensation of her mind brushing against their own. Ashton tries to make their mind feel welcoming, safe. They don't have a fucking clue if they can do that, don't know how. But, they have to fucking try.

It must work, some-fucking-how, because Ashton can sense her mind settling against his own, gently tangling at the edges. Imogen's presence feels weaker, thinner, more wrung out, than he's used to. And fuck, it's instinct to wrap her into a protective embrace, psychically and (maybe?) mentally, when she's looking so rough. They're not particularly close among the members of Bells Hells, but Imogen is still part of that family, one of his people. And Ashton takes care of his people.

"There you go. You're safe with me," Ashton mumbles the soft encouragements into her hair.

____________________________________________________________

Imogen takes a shuddering breath, inhaling the scent of leather and stone.

Ashton?

"I'm right here. I've got you."

The sound vibrates against her forehead. The swell of thought just as rumbling and steady and calm.

She burrows in deeper. To the solid mass gently wrapped around her sitting form. To the mind of rumbling sand and gravel and stone and crystal-

Imogen pulls back from the tinkling sound of vibrating crystal. That way lies the dangerous infinity of Ashton-but-not-Ashton.

She skirts around the clattering gravel whose shards threaten to cut and hurt. Sometimes pain is grounding, but she hurts enough already.

The sand, though. The sand is nice. Gentle sursurs from a breeze blowing it from one spot to the next, a soft crunch underfoot. It's a little uncomfortable grittiness, but that's just it's nature, a warning not to stir things up into a storm.

Not that Ashton's mind really storms. Not in her experience. Their rage is tectonic. Loud and cracking and crashing and crunching and roaring and threatening to entomb you in unforgiving rock.

But Ashton isn't raging right now (it's always a low rumble beneath the surface, ready to truly quake the world, written into the bedstone of Ashton). Instead they're trying to be soft, to be sand. Or at least keep her in the gentle sands and away from the noisy, prickling gravel and the deep rumble of crushing stone and the echoing crystalline infinity.

Imogen appreciates it, coiling a little more snugly into the space she's been provided.

Thank you.

"You're welcome," rumbles through all of her contact with Ashton.

She lets out a content little sigh, happy to hide here from the danger they're in as long as she can.

[walder-138]

HEY THERE DEMONS ITS ME YOUR GOOSE

I have something I must discuss.

Annika's sleeping habits.

So we know that she curls up in his office closet because that's where she feels safe enough to sleep and hide from everyone else. But I feel like this occurs later on in their friendship, much later in comparison to the years they have known each other. And this is in reference to the ask you sent me whereby you wrote back that she'd doze off to his lectures about Perseus ideology (which for the most part would be boredom lmao) BUT what if, due to her poor sleeping ability when, like you say, she's on the brink of collapse because of how exhausted she is, in some of these droning conversations where his voice is the only thing heard that's what helps her sleep.

At first it's a completely unintentional thing and maybe she'd be embarrassed about it (especially in the beginning because they probably aren't friends to the extent they are later) and Keith would think "this literal child is being so rude, I'm trying to educate her and she falls asleep on me? I'm not that boring and neither is the goal of Perseus-"

Only to then, when it's happened a few times, he begins to realise that maybe there's something wrong and she's not sleeping properly. And the only time she seems to get some shut eye is when he's talking... so when coming back from a mission, travelling between places and it's an appropriate time to sleep, maybe he starts to purposefully speak for decent lengths of time knowing that it'll help her? If she asked him about it, he'd feign like he hasn't got a clue what she's on about. "I don't care about you enough to even bother, you're just being rude." When really he's internally like "fucking sleep, dammit, your habits give me a heart attack-"

Boy oh boy where do I even begin…

(TW: IMPLIED CHILDHOOD S/A BUT NEVER EXPLICITLY MENTIONED OR DESCRIBED)

Annika’s sleeping patterns, as I’ve told you before, is mainly based off the traumas she’s experienced as a kid, growing up in her dad’s terrorist organization. Police would raid the safehouses they were in, sometimes one of her dad’s men would sneak into her room, threatening her with violence to be quiet while they did stuff to her, and her own father’s torment for being ‘lazy’. It was always dark when these things happen; when she was most vulnerable.

Annika has a very specific way she sleeps; must be facing main entrance; no windows; blankets only where they don’t interfere with mobility; weapon within grabbing distance; walls between me and men

She’s slept on counters trying to keep these rules, even when beds, couches, chairs, or cots are provided. The tub, Keith’s office closet, and basements are typically her lurking spots when she needs rest.

If Annika and Keith are sleeping in the same safehouse, despite trusting him more than anyone, Annika would put herself on lockdown, getting as much space between them as possible without breaking any of the rules.

Even with these precautions, Annika, whenever she sleeps, 4 times out of 10 wakes up screaming. It’s a blood curdling, pained, and dreadful screech. Just how it sounds would convince Keith that it isn’t real, maybe just how his brain copes with the repressed guilt or whatever, eh? Just another dream.

And Annika looks completely fine the morning after, well, as fine as she can look, still, there ain’t no way it’s coming from her. That sound can’t come from a human.

He’d play it off, for a while.

So, after my long ass yapping session- back to the original ask.

Achievement unlocked: Boring as FUCK- be so boring that even a deeply tormented Annika falls asleep during your yapping session

Keith’s voice is like white noise to her- and it reminds she isn’t alone. That there’s someone who’ll cover her six if something goes wrong. But it’s also so fucking boring like dude how the fuck do you stretch out a yes or no question into a lecture like… honk shoe mimimimimimi honk shoe mimimimimi

(I think Keith’s the kind of guy to turn a joke into a lecture)

Honestly, I think Annika would never pick up on it unless he told her. In the moment, all she can think of is “Fuck I started him again, we just got back-“ honk shoe mimimimi honk shoe mimimimi honk shoe

She thinks he likes to hear himself talk- something she learned that a lot of Americans do. Always talking a lot without actually saying anything.

Annika would never figure out that Keith’s doing it for her.

[scorpi14]

Alright. Let’s talk about this season opener. I have THINGS to say & I haven’t seen anyone else saying them yet, so here I go.

Remember when Lucy said her car felt like the only safe space for her after Caleb tried to kill her? Well, Tim’s become that safe space. It’s happened slowly since the day he pulled her out of that barrel in Day of Death, and I think became especially true after he helped her through Jackson’s murder. Everything they went through last season cemented Tim as Lucy’s safe space (and Lucy as his, but we’re not talking about that right now).

Season 5 episode 1 opens with Lucy dreaming about the kiss she and Tim shared at the end of season 4. This is important. It’s been days and it’s still on her mind, and she’s smiling. It’s a good dream at this point, awkward and taboo as it was. Of course being Lucy, when she wakes up, she’s in denial about it/completely brushes it off as nothing.

Fast forward to when she finds out Rosalind’s escaped, absolutely nothing matters anymore except dealing with that. She’s freaking out and can’t show it. Worse, has to stuff it down as quickly as she can, but it’s not that easy, right? So what does she do? She seeks out her safe space.

Tim’s already provided it by gripping her hand, protecting their cover and getting them into the bathroom so they can have a moment to talk it through. But it’s not enough. Yes, Lucy’s thinking about their cover when she mentions they’re supposed to be hooking up, but there were plenty of ways to solve that. Mess up their hair and clothes, smudge her own lipstick, etc. 

That’s not what she does, and we know why because of the dream at the beginning of the episode. Kissing Tim was good. Good enough she’s dreaming about it and it’s leaving her warm and gooey while she’s snuggled in her covers. She wants that feeling again and is desperate for a better distraction than the job they’re on, so she goes for it and kisses him like her life depends on it. 

Someone caught in a gif that her hands were shaking when she messed his clothes up. See this tweet here: https://twitter.com/multixcswan/status/1574481594840129539

Melissa confirms it’s a callback to when her hands shake in Day of Death while Tim’s cradling her. Read the comments in her response to the above tweet for confirmation: https://twitter.com/Mel13Oneil/status/1574491389194215424

Lucy’s freaking tf out and is trying to recreate what she had earlier that morning in her bed, what Tim provided her when he hugged her in Day of Death and in episode 1 of season 4. That’s why Tim’s so thrown, because it is 100% a real kiss and he doesn’t know what to do about it because Lucy kissed him like her life depended on it. And he’s clearly weak to that level of passion (he always has been with the exuberance Lucy lives with), not to mention it feels like it’s out of left field given what they were just dealing with.

When she’s called on it, she panics and chalks it up to biology to save face, but the conversation opens up a door. She not the only one thinking about it. Tim clearly is if he’s bringing it up, and his reaction after she comments on her robe flying open further makes her question if she’s not the only one feeling what’s going on.

Fast forward to the end of the episode, when Lucy’s egging him to come into her apartment with her. This isn’t just about the fact that they’re hot for each other and sexual tension is sizzling the paint off the hallway walls. She’s back where Rosalind’s escaped and is clinging to her safe space. She doesn’t want undercover to be over because if it is, she has to face the reality that her worst nightmare is waiting around the corner (or in her fucking apartment as we learn in that heartbreaking ending). 

That’s why she says we haven’t been debriefed so we’re still undercover. Yes, it’s about that crackling tension between them now, and they both know something’s going to happen (personally, I don’t think they’d have sex. I think they would’ve had a hardcore make out/maybe gotten to some clothes being shed, but would’ve backed out on their principles and just cuddled/fallen asleep together so Lucy could feel safe). But there is completely a deeper meaning here, and I think it’s going to make the rest of this season so damn interesting to watch.

[mysteroads]

World Building Post-War MHA, aka:

How Mr. Compress survives, thrives, steals all of AFO's money, and gives a big ol' "Fuck You!" to the heroes by doing a better job at saving people... All while staying classy. 😉

tltr: Mr. Compress steals AFO's money, creates a non-profit, names it all after the League to remind everyone why it's important and also to thumb his nose at the heroes.

So, mostly for my own edification, I started wondering what a Post-War MHA world would look like, and since MHA is a dystopia, how people would go about fixing the problems.

So, MHA dystopia can be described as: "Questioning the root of systemic issues brought about by a society grown both compliant *and* reliant on the protection of superheroes-- who have been elevated to celebrity/godlike status while ignoring 'Heroes' inherent humanity and all the flaws that come with being human-- while ignoring their own responsibilities as humans to help each other."

There's a reoccurring theme of Bystander Syndrome. Regular people growing compliant and being unwilling to step up to help their fellow man. Well, Post-War, I'm betting that's going to change, and that's where our boy Atsuhiro Sako can come in.

We all know Mr. Compress is going to survive. I really hope more members of the League do as well, but we know Atsuhiro Sako's going to make it. More than that, he's going jump headlong into making damn sure the past doesn't repeat itself, even if that means playing nice with the heroes (for awhile). There's going to be some sort of Villain Rehab program, or even a pardon/parole for the surviving LoV member(s). Sako's going to to be the perfect little ex-villain right up until his exit paperwork is processed.

And, since he was 1} in Tomura's inner circle, 2} he's clever enough to get Garaki to talk to him, and 3} he's an excellent thief... I'm going to assume he's smart enough to get the info he needs to access enough of AFO's accounts. 💸💸💸 And even if he's not, he's savvy enough to find the money somewhere.

I see Atsuhiro at the head of a Non-Profit Organization with several subsidiaries dedicated to different problems. Furthermore, as a unashamed former villain, I can see him naming the whole thing after the League... just to spite the heroes and remind everyone why he's doing what he's doing.😈 It's what his friends would've wanted.

The League for the Lost, and it's subsidiaries (colored for funsies):

Dabi’s Fire, for the campaign against domestic abuse and protection for the abused. 

Himiko’s Hope, assistance for so-called villainous and other maligned quirks, with a special emphasis on blood quirks and others with unique dietary requirements. 

Spinner’s Stories, support for mutation quirks and heteromorphs. 

Jin’s Friends, for free access to mental health resources. 

Big Sis’s House, safe spaces for queer youth and adults.

Tomura’s Soldiers, for the war against the trafficking of children with powerful quirks.

Honestly, this is probably the best way for the problems to be solved, and the best way to put AFO's ill gotten gains to good use. I mean, the money is there! It's going to be found eventually. Might as well use it to do whatever they can do to prevent a problem before it happens! And what better way to keep the memory of the League of Villains alive, get civilians involved in helping each other, and provide a warning for future generations-- than to put their names on Japan's biggest non-profit?

And, if he manages to piss off the old-school heroes and cops, while attracting the new generations, then that's just a bonus. 😎

If you made it this far, you are a most excellent person, a ✨gem✨ among readers!💖 And I want to hear from you! All... probably two, maybe three?... of you! What would you like to see from Post-War MHA? How would you fix the problems? Who from the LoV do you think's going to survive, and what are they going to do with themselves in the new world?